I never really thought about recovery. Sure, I knew I wouldn't be able to do some stuff for a few days. I evidently just didn't realize how much I wouldn't be able to do and how long it would be before I could.
My feet were to stay off the ground until forty-eight hours after surgery. Sunday, around 3:00, I decided that I should finally use my crutches. I was so weak. My feet were pretty awkward - mainly my calves, of course. They didn't really hurt; it was more like they were being stretched quite far. I used my crutches once or twice more after the first time to use the bathroom. Obviously, Mom had to help me every time I went.
Yesterday morning, the first thing I wanted to do when I woke up was go to the bathroom. Well, I felt pretty weak, but I made it there okay. When I got to sitting down, however, I was really weak. I told Mom to get the rolling chair, because I was not about to walk back. She went and got it, and somehow I got myself into it. She started rolling me back into the living room and stopped for a second to ask if I want her to get something. I got mad because she stopped and said, "Mom, go, roll!" Haha - all I wanted to do was lay down RIGHT THEN. We got to the couch, and I layed down. I don't think I had my glasses on, but I couldn't open my eyes very well. Mom told me afterwards that my eyes were really dilated; I told her that I couldn't tell whether or not m vision was any worse than it usually is without glasses or contacts. I needed to take something, but I had to eat something in order to do that. I definitely didn't feel like eating anything. Mom ended up feeding me a popsicle, and I got a couple of Motrin down. After that episode, I was okay. I sat up for the rest of the day, because I figured that I needed to get used to staying up. All that laying down really messes with you.
Today I've felt perfectly fine. I haven't taken any pain medication since yesterday morning. Mom and I took a small trip to Union; I needed some papers and books for class tomorrow. I am dead set on going to class tomorrow. Since I can't drive until some time after next Friday, Mom will be transporting me to school. There's a possibility that I will be able to get back in the dorms next week, but we'll just have to see.
Yesterday after my bad episode, I told Mom, "Yeah, I'm not going back to school tomorrow." She said, "I told you there was no way that was going to happen." I didn't think it was going to be this bad. Not that it is easy; I just never looked beyond being "fixed" and playing soccer again. Being out for three to six weeks....aw, that's not too bad. Ha - maybe I thought I would just be walking around perfectly fine until then. That's the idealist part of me coming out...
Despite the junk, I don't regret this. You have to get through junk to get to the good stuff. I don't have to keep telling myself that this is worth it. Now I do look beyond the crutches, the bandages, and the inability to do simple stuff. I see me training in the summer, looking forward to the season. I see me at soccer practice, keeping up with everybody (ahead of some). I see me playing in a game for as long as Coach needs me out there, not hindered by pain. And, most of all, I see me doing it all for God, because I know what it is to not be able to do it at all.